Bizarro-Bastarda

Bizarro-Bastarda

A Poem by Julius Whitfield

Our interaction became unwelcoming like a looming virus corrupt to the affect. Eluded by ambiguous walls and murky doors colored by blood and rust disseminating a liason that isn't suppose to occur between the likes of us. portioning oblivion by a vain urge that will contest the clause between the individuals.

I become aware of the line and what stands in it's integration; the patina and sheen of this sign that should have shows a lambent empathy even if i can't do much to pursuade you

Confrontation in this increase of intolerance hasn't been mislaid for it's own good. Besides, the girth has left a insincerity of superiority rather than individuality and equality. But I can't still come to understand how this has become so managed when you preach of such things. Just you're still accustomed to this stark relationship. 

I become aware of the line and what stands in it's integration; the patina and sheen of this sign that should have shows a lambent empathy even if i can't do much to pursuade you

You're nothing more than a child, vestal in mind but otherwise promiscuous. insistent in this enmity in means of devotion of some inconsideration. keeping some refuge. you want someone to rid you of these things that have abandoned you as you bastardize everyone else

beyond man I have grown pardoned of this dependability through supposition of reason, finding my own self-regard

Confrontation in this increase of intolerance hasn't been mislaid for it's own good. Besides, the girth has left a insincerity of superiority rather than individuality and equality. But I can't still come to understand how this has become so managed when you preach of such things. Just you're still accustomed to this stark relationship. 

I become aware of the line and what stands in it's integration; the patina and sheen of this sign that should have shows a lambent empathy even if i can't do much to pursuade you

i am already fully aware of this exemption and know i'll surpass with it. i know i am of a grand privelige when i owe only to himself. 

We watch the lambency commune with desire

Dreams and desires are mask every so often like conveyance

We watch the desire commune with lambency

through the eyes of your son

I discover the paradigm, in all it's segregations and divisions

© 2008 Julius Whitfield


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Added on February 9, 2008

Author

Julius Whitfield
Julius Whitfield

St Louis, MO



About
21 yr old artists (writing, music, drawing, and performances) who has been befriended by pencils for years. I like to report my life's experiences through poetry and comedy, which are most of the time.. more..

Writing